the meetings at the Crown and Anchor--subscribed to the aid of the
suffering friends of freedom--harangued, argued, sweated, wrote--was
fined and imprisoned--regained his liberty, and married--his wife loved a
community of goods no less than her spouse, and ran off with one citizen,
while he was running on to the others. Chitterling dried his tears; and
contented himself with the reflection, that, in 'a proper state of
things,' such an event could not have occurred.

"Mr. Crabtree's money and life were now half gone. One does not subscribe
to the friends of freedom and spout at their dinners for nothing. But the
worst drop was yet in the cup. An undertaking, of the most spirited and
promising nature, was conceived by the chief of the friends, and the
dearest familiar of Mr. Chitterling Crabtree. Our worthy embarked his
fortune in a speculation so certain of success;--crash went the
speculation, and off went the friend--Mr. Crabtree was ruined. He was
not, however, a man to despair at trifles. What were bread, meat, and
beer, to the champion of equality! He went to the meeting that very
night: he said he gloried in his losses--they were for the cause: the
whole conclave rang with shouts of applause, and Mr. Chitterling Crabtree
went to bed happier than ever. I need not pursue his history farther; you
see him here--verbum sat. He spouts at the 'Ciceronian,' for half a crown
a night, and to this day subscribes sixpence a week to the cause of
'liberty and enlightenment all over the world.'"

"By Heaven!" cried Dartmore, "he is a fine fellow, and my father shall do
something for him."

Gordon pricked up his ears, and continued,--"Now, for the second person,
gentlemen, whom I am about to describe to you. You see that middle-sized,
stout man, with a slight squint, and a restless, lowering, cunning